


Libida Loca

by iGoToExtremes



Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Band, Alternate Universe - Sex Shop, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Slash, adult novelty store but make it totally PG-13 (I swear), alternate canon - pre-band jobs, apologies to Ricky Martin, for the lolz only
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27791155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iGoToExtremes/pseuds/iGoToExtremes
Summary: AU in which some of the lads meet under different circumstances.(I cannot stress enough that this Sex Shop AU is almost entirely nonsexual.)
Relationships: Charlie Barnes/Dan Smith
Comments: 11
Kudos: 13





	Libida Loca

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LastNightsGlitter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastNightsGlitter/gifts).



> This is for LastNightsGlitter, who legitimately didn't think I would turn this iteration of our hilarious non-sensical musings into a fic. Many thanks to special guest beta written_you_down. 
> 
> The title is based - sort of - on a popular song from 1999. 
> 
> Usual disclaimers apply insofar as this is a work of fiction, not intended to infringe on any rights or implicate any real persons (despite inspiration having been taken from some - supposedly - true events).

i.

“Woooooo! Yeah!”

The cheer goes up from 90% of the pub’s patrons before Dan can even comprehend what happened on the many TV screens showing the rugby match. 

“I’ll go get us another round,” he practically shouts into Woody’s ear, eager to busy himself somehow. 

“Thanks mate!” the shaggy-haired man replies before turning back to his other friends to continue the sport-induced revelry. 

Dan weaves his way through the crowd toward the bar, squeezing himself into an available bit of space. Both bartenders are busy pouring pints but Dan waits expectantly until one of them frees up and happens by his post. 

“Hey man, can I get two--” Before he can even finish, another roar washes over the crowd, but this time it’s a chorus of disappointed groans at – he thinks - the derailment of a developing play. By the time it settles down the barkeep is beyond shouting distance away, tending to someone else. 

“Talk about bad timing.”

The quip comes from a slightly shorter man with a sprig of dark hair and neatly trimmed beard, perched on a stool to Dan’s right. 

“You’re tellin’ me,” Dan snickers. “Here I—“

“Oi!” The bearded bloke has a hand in the air, and once he confirms that he has the bartender’s attention he points a finger down at Dan. 

“What’ll it be, then?” the bartender asks, slowly striding over as if they’re imposing on him. 

“Two pints of the lager please,” Dan answers, then gets another (possibly stupid) idea. “And one of whatever he’s having,” he adds with a tilt of his head towards his savior. 

“Stout, if you don’t mind, thanks,” he supplies. “Tryna pace myself, got a big night ahead.”

There’s a certain dread in his voice that Dan can’t ignore. “You sound thrilled,” he deadpans. 

“Quite,” the other chap says with a chuckle. “It’s my roommate’s birthday, so I’m told that I must accompany him and his gaggle of fellow rabblerousers for the duration of the revelry, which is sure to last well beyond the time at which I’d usually turn in.”

Dan gasps in faux outrage. “Being forced to have fun on someone’s birthday?! I better get you something stronger.”

“Har har,” the other bloke says. “What about you? You’re not interested in the sportsball match either, it would seem.”

“Came here with a mate who lives for this stuff. A bunch of his weekly-football-match crowd is here as well,” Dan explains. “I much prefer a smoky half-empty bar with some no-name indie music act.”

“Me too, man,” the other man says in solidarity. “I’m Charlie, by the way.”

“Dan,” he offers in response, then raises his glass. “Well, cheers.”

“Indeed.” There’s a mischievous wry smile on Charlie’s face that Dan might stare at for a second too long. 

“There you are!” Woody’s voice cuts through the charged silence — alerting Dan that the game must be over because the surrounding ambience has shifted to the usual generic dull roar of a pub. 

Dan turns to find his friend/bandmate reaching over for his pint. Meanwhile, a gangly lad pops through the crowd behind Charlie, abruptly resting his hands on the seated man’s shoulders while emitting an enthusiastic yelp of “CHARLO!!!!”. 

Based on the crowd surrounding him, Dan surmises that this is the roommate with the birthday. And it turns out that someone from that group knows someone from Woody’s football crew, which means that an hour (and several shots of whiskey) later the whole lot of them are occupying the corner of an otherwise dark dance floor lit by flashing multicolor streaks. 

For someone who claims not to be interested in the full night-out experience, Charlie seems to be handling it okay. Dan isn’t a fan of these clubs, per se, but he  _ is _ a fan of being just out of his mind enough that he doesn’t care who sees him attempting to dance. And it certainly doesn’t hurt when his company includes a cute bloke who keeps flashing him a shy-but-playful smile. There’s also an occasional eye roll that says “I can’t believe I’m here and actually sort of enjoying it,” but Dan finds that oddly endearing. 

As Charlie promised, the festivities really do stretch into the wee hours. His roommate (Carl? Kyle?) eagerly drunk-dances with anyone who floats his way - male or female, friend or stranger, et al. From his place at the centre of the group he surreptitiously - protectively - keeps an eye on Charlie, and also occasionally glances at Dan with a smile that’s inclusive and welcoming. 

“That was fun! I had fun!” he tells Woody as they stumble off later on, the large group having dispersed into smaller factions for everyone’s homeward trek. 

“I’d hope so, considering how absolutely blasted you are,” Woody assesses. “We’ll see how fun that is for ya tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Dan says then, suddenly sad. 

“What now?”

His fuzzy brain is trying to recall the details of the last hour; how they got from the last club to the deserted streets of Southfields. “I didn’t say goodbye to Charlie.” 

Woody chuckles heartily. “Uh, yes you did, mate. Pretty sure the two of you hugged for a solid ninety seconds.”

“O-oh, _right_ ,” Dan replies, remembering it and smiling like a dope. “I just. Wish I could say goodbye again. Or that we didn’t have to say goodbye at all, y’know?”

“Christ,” Woody mutters as he steers Dan away from walking into a lamppost. “He’s really in it this time.”

ii.

Charlie’s ears are still ringing from the (awful) club on Monday morning. He’d blessedly booked both Sunday and Monday off work, in anticipation of being completely wrecked by Kyle’s birthday festivities. If he worked anywhere else besides a coffee shop, he could’ve managed it, but the risk of a 5 AM shift looms large. 

He’s on the couch eating a late brunch of leftover pad Thai when Kyle enters the living room. 

“Charles, my old chum!” 

“ _Oh_ no, what do you want.” He sets his plate down on the coffee table, but clings to his mug as though it’ll protect him from what’s coming. 

“Who says I want anything?” Kyle scoffs, offended. 

Charlie merely raises an eyebrow at him. 

The taller man is dressed a little nicer than normal, in a patterned button-up shirt and tailored dark trousers, and he’s holding a gray sweater. “Okay, so. I’m supposed to work later, but—“

“No. _Nope._ Don’t say anymore; I can’t.”

Kyle pulls his sweater over his head. “You haven’t even heard what I’m going to ask!” 

Charlie groans. He’s certain that Kyle’s had some scheduling mishap and needs Charlie to cover his shift at work — something he’s given blanket refusal on multiple times. “Go ahead,” he says anyway. 

“My Nan originally invited me to dinner for my birthday tomorrow evening, but it turns out her pensioners group got tickets to a West End show, so she wants me to come over today instead.” 

“And you need someone to cover for you at work.” Charlie can’t even say the ridiculous name of the store. 

“I do,” he confirms. “I’ll owe you forever. Plus I’ve already talked to Nan and there’s an extra batch of her fudge brownies in it for you. And, y’know, you’ll be getting paid.”

“I just.” He stares straight ahead and exhales forcefully. 

“It’s really not that big a deal. Like working in any other shop.”

Charlie barks out a sarcastic laugh. “Easy for you to say, you’re…”

“Not an uptight knob?” Kyle teases. Then after a beat: “Maybe you can buy something for that bloke you met the other night.”

Charlie’s face immediately feels hot. “I—“

“Kidding, I’m kidding of course,” Kyle insists, grabbing his coat from the hook by the door. “He  _ is _ fit, though, if you like shy, awkward-dancing chaps who don’t own a hairbrush.”

“Mmm,” Charlie hums in agreement, too embarrassed to elaborate. But he finds himself smiling now that Kyle’s mentioned Dan. 

“ _So._ Shift starts at 4. I’ll let Will know you’re covering for me and he can show you the ropes - literally- when you get there.” Kyle slips his coat on, chuckling to himself at his little joke. “And when you get home you can gorge yourself on Nan’s brownies. Plus the other leftovers she’ll inevitably send me off with.”

Charlie sighs. As if the other night wasn’t enough of an indication, he really can’t say no to Kyle. “All right. You still owe me, though.”

Kyle pulls open the door. “Don’t worry, I’ve already asked Tom to ask that long-haired bloke for your boy’s number.”

At that Charlie nearly chokes on his coffee, but Kyle is already gone. 

iii. 

Dan is barely over his hangover on Monday afternoon, slogging through another fantastic day of doing other people’s random busy-work around the office.

His morning had been spent using newspaper to map out the size of a small table that the office manager wants to purchase for the reception area, to see if it’ll fit. 

Now, he’s mostly hoping he’ll be left alone for the rest of the day. Normally, he wants to be given tasks to do, to be useful and participate - however tangentially - in the operations of the company. Not today, though. 

He’s able to hide at his desk pretending to be busy for a good while, until he hears his name ring out from his boss’s office. 

Rising from his seat, he suppresses a groan as he walks the few steps over. 

“Ah, thanks, come on in,” his boss says once Dan reaches the doorway. 

“Of course, no problem,” Dan says, ever the good soldier. 

His boss slides a small, unmarked pink box across the desk, a post-it note stuck to the top. “My wife needs this mended. Address is written down there; just need you to drop it off whenever you’re able and then pick it up when it’s ready. We, uh. Really appreciate it.” 

“Yeah of course, happy to help.” Errands aren’t Dan’s favorite flavor of bitch work but he’s programmed to be polite anyway as he gathers the parcel, offering a small nod before he departs his boss’s office. 

When he gets back to his desk, he notices that the address on the sticky note is in SoHo. 

That’s when he realizes the likely nature of what’s in the box, and lets out a small groan. 

iv.

Charlie reluctantly gets dressed and heads over to the shop where Kyle works. 

“'Libida Loca',” he groans under his breath as he enters the store, triggering the bell on the door. 

“Hello there, just a minute!” calls a voice behind the counter before its owner turns around. “Oh! Kyle said to expect you. I’m Will,” he continues, his tone now soft and somewhat unenthused. 

“Hi. M’Charlie,” he offers, trying not to stare at the wall of dildos behind Will as the taller man invites him to come around behind the counter. 

“Mondays are usually slow up front, but I need to handle restocking a new shipment of items downstairs. All you really need to do is man the counter and handle basic transactions. Anything more complicated you can just give a shout.” He shows Charlie how to use the till to ring up purchases, and the phone intercom to call down to the stock room. 

Just before he heads down the nearby stairs, Will turns back again. “Oh, and make sure to remind customers about the Valentine’s Day promotion. Free flavored lube with any purchase over twenty quid.”

Charlie’s certain his face has turned a deep crimson. “Swell,” he mutters to himself. 

v.

On the tube ride home, Dan feels like he’s hoarding contraband. He doesn’t know what exactly is in the box, but he’s certain that it isn’t something he should simply be carrying around in his innocent blue knapsack. 

Thankfully, he and Woody are supposed to rehearse that evening, so his friend arrives shortly after Dan gets home. 

“Slight change of plans,” he begins, then nods towards the nondescript pink box on the table. “Work errand. SoHo. Something that my boss’s wife needs mended.”

Woody cocks an eyebrow. “SoHo, eh?” he chuckles. “What’s in the box, Dan?”

He buries his face in his hand. “I don’t know.” 

At that, Woody’s whole face scrunches in confusion. “You didn’t look?”

“No! I did not look!” Dan exclaims, incredulous. 

Woody shrugs. “I’ll look.” He reaches for the box and takes a peek, his mouth forming into an approving sort of frown. “Deluxe model, innit.”

Dan wants to disappear from existence. “If you’re so interested, I take it you'll have no issue joining me on this horrific excursion.”

Woody considers the suggestion for a brief second. “Buy me some bibimbap after and you got yourself a deal.”

vi.

Will wasn’t joking about business being slow. Of course, interacting with only a few customers is accompanied by the downside of Charlie having too much idle time in which to contemplate his surroundings. 

An adult store named, punnily, after a Ricky Martin song. 

He isn’t a prude or anything, but still. The contents of the shop are a bit much for his sensibilities. Other people could do what they wanted in private; Charlie had always been fine with good old-fashioned relations. 

His mind, eventually, wanders to the possibility of those activities with respect to Dan. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up that anything more will come of their nice time during the recent night out, but still. 

That Charlie is bored enough to daydream seems to indicate the waning of his embarrassment. In fact, he’s comfortable enough that he paces around a bit behind the counter, taking in small details of the setup he hadn’t noticed before. 

“‘Try me’, indeed,” Charlie says, scoffing at the instruction on the printed sign next to the sample set of handcuffs bolted to the countertop. 

The handcuffs themselves aren’t bolted down, of course, but rather the small bit of chain between the two cuffs is strung through an eyebolt that’s affixed to the counter. Next to it is a magnetic strip, to which a small key is stuck. 

Charlie gingerly picks up one of the cuffs and slips it around his wrist, surprised at how easily it closes and the lock clicks shut. 

He’s also surprised that he – kind of – likes the feeling of the cool metal against his skin. 

His heart beating a little faster, as though he’s doing something a bit dangerous, he slides his other hand into the second cuff and secures it. 

Lest he be caught in this most compromising position he realizes that he needs to uncuff himself in short order. But first he gives an experimental tug. The digging of the metal into his flesh sends little jolts through his limbs… and other places — a most unexpected revelation. 

Maybe he more than “kind of” likes it. 

An imagined scenario of being cuffed to a bed flicks through his brain at lightning speed and then he’s back to being embarrassed. 

He peels the key off of the magnet pad once again and uses it to unlock the cuff around his left hand, flexing his fingers and rolling his wrist once it’s free. 

Then, just as he’s about to unlock the other cuff, the chime on the shop’s door sounds, startling him. As if in slow motion, Charlie watches helplessly while the key slips out from between his fingers and sails through the air, falling to the floor on the other side of the counter. 

In the meantime, chattering voices make their way toward him. 

When he sees who the voices belong to, he gasps. 

vii. 

“Listen, you’re making this more of a thing than it needs to be, really. But if you’re this horrified maybe you should get another job, or at least stand up for yourself and—“

“Charlie?!” Dan cuts Woody off when he sees who’s behind the counter. 

“D-Dan, hi,” the other man says, clearly quite flustered. “And. Uh…” 

“Woody. Good to see ya, mate.” He’s clearly amused by this development and Dan silently wills him not to say or do anything to make the situation more awkward. 

“And you as well,” Charlie says, but his eyes nervously flick to Dan’s. He’s leaning forward on the counter, his arms folded over one another. “Can I, um, h-help you lads with anything?” 

Dan glances at Woody, who raises his eyebrows. Deciding it’s better to handle it himself, Dan turns back to Charlie and approaches the counter while Woody starts casually browsing the nearby aisles.

“This is mortifying, but my boss sent me to get whatever’s in this box repaired. It belongs to his wife, I didn’t even want to look, but he said to come here and you’d be able to take care of it.” He’s certain that his face is a deep shade of crimson, but so is Charlie’s, which Dan fleetingly thinks is a bit odd. 

“I, uh—“ Charlie to his left, where there’s a phone a ways down the counter. He appears to be sweating a little. 

Dan squints, concerned. “You all right?”

“Not really, no,” Charlie squeaks out, then closes his eyes for a moment before continuing, his right hand nervously scratching at his left elbow. “I don’t even really work here. Kyle does; he needed me to cover his shift last minute. In the past I always refused because this place is  _ insane _ and I’ve never set foot inside much less wanted to  _ work _ here but I’m, apparently, a giant pushover.” 

“Bit of that going around, it would seem,” Dan offers with a sympathetic smile. 

“Yeah,” Charlie chuckles. “Anyway, I’d just gotten over my allergy to being here when I thought ‘oh look, some handcuffs’—“ He stands upright and steps back to reveal that one of his hands is cuffed to the counter. “—but I dropped the key while trying to uncuff myself, and then you walked in.” He stops to breathe, having rattled all that off rather quickly. 

Before Dan can say anything, the sound of something tumbling off a shelf draws their attention to a nearby display rack, where Woody quickly scoops up a few fallen boxes of... something that Dan doesn't even want to fathom. 

“M’all right, carry on,” Woody says, the smirk audible in his voice and visible from several metres away. 

Dan looks back at Charlie, who’s wincing meekly. “C-can I help? Where’s the key?”

Charlie’s earthy-hued eyes skim down to the floor. “Probably somewhere by your feet I reckon.”

Dan bends down to survey the floor, catching the glint of the metal key and hurriedly scooping it up. “This is it, yeah?”

Charlie snickers. “Certainly hope so.”

As Dan slides the key into the slot, he can sense that Charlie is starting to relax. 

“Y’know, after we met the other night, I didn’t think this is how our next rendezvous would go,” the bearded man says. 

“You were– thinking about me?” Dan stammers, gently opening the unlocked handcuff. “And seeing me again?”

“Mmm-hmm,” he replies quietly, with a small smile as he slides his hand out of the restraint device. 

Dan feels like his heart might leap out of his chest. 

“Okay then!” Charlie goes on, exhaling dramatically. “Now to business.” He nods towards the box. 

Oh yeah. That. Dan had almost forgotten. 

“I honestly have no idea what to do about repairs, but I can phone the manager, he’s—“

“No need, I’m right here.” A tall, broad man is leaning in a nearby doorway, looking bored. 

“Will! Hello,” Charlie says nervously. “How long have you…?”

“Long enough,” he offers dryly. “A repair, you said?”

“Yes, this gentleman has something belonging to his boss’s wife that needs mending.”

Dan slides the box forward and Will opens it rather unceremoniously. Charlie very cautiously glances over and then immediately averts his eyes, which tempts Dan into doing the same. 

He wishes he hadn’t. 

“How do you reckon someone would break that?!” Charlie whispers. 

Dan closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I don’t really want to consider it, actually.”

“Mmm well, you never know,” Will muses without looking up from the contraption. “If you like the handcuffs, they do tend to be a gateway to more adventurous apparatuses.”

Charlie’s gasp is audible and his cheeks get a bit pinker… which is truly adorable. 

Dan tries - and fails - stifle a giggle. 

“Quiet, you,” Charlie grumbles, but he’s smiling. 

“All right then,” Will says, seriously. “It’s under warranty, so it's free of charge. Leave a phone number and we’ll let you know when it’s ready.” He slides a small card and pen across the table so that Dan can leave his contact info. 

“Charlie,” Will goes on, his tone insistent. 

“Y-yes?” 

“Did you tell these chaps about the sale?” 

Charlie rolls his eyes, then mutters: “Free lube with any purchase over £20. For Valentine’s Day.”

“Ah, sweet,” Woody says as he rejoins them at the counter, taking a bottle of lube to add to his armful of... whatever he’s buying. 

Dan averts his eyes once more, not really interested in his friend’s purchases. 

He does, naturally, sneak a glimpse at Charlie as he rings up Woody’s items, his brow furrowed while he expertly operates the till. 

“So uh,” Dan begins, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand, “if you don’t normally work here, what um,  _ do _ you do?”

“I’m a barista,” he explains as Woody swipes his credit card, then presses the button to dispense the receipt. “Coffee bitch to the proper working folks of the world. Yourself?”

“Music agency office bitch,” Dan explains, echoing Charlie’s amusing choice of words. Then: “Avid consumer of coffee.”

“Mmm, I see,” Charlie drawls with a smirk. 

Woody groans, lifting his paper shopping bag off the counter. “Yeah yeah, you both like coffee, and each other.” 

“ _ Mate _ ,” Dan grumbles, his ears positively burning now. 

“What? I’m trying to move this along so I can get that takeaway dinner you owe me. Here,” he says, grabbing Dan’s phone and unlocking it (while Dan silently curses the day he shared his passcode) before passing it to Charlie. “Give this poor sap your number so he can awkwardly ask you out over text,” he instructs the man behind the counter. 

Dan would be more embarrassed if Charlie wasn’t shyly grinning while he accepted the phone. And while tapping away at the touchscreen. And when handing it back to Dan. 

“Thanks,” Dan says. “For your help, and… y’know.” He waves his phone a little. 

“Likewise. For not laughing at my boundless idiocy whilst you uncuffed me.”

At this point there are a few other customers milling about the store and Dan feels like his visit has reached its natural end. 

“So, ah. I’ll call you?”

“Mmmhmm,” Charlie affirms a small smile playing at his bearded mouth. “Good to see you again.”

“ _Dude_ ,” Dan says to Woody once they’re safely outside the store. 

“Yeah, yeah. Tryna be a good wingman here is all,” Woody insists. “You didn’t wanna hang around that shop for any longer than we needed to, right?”

“Well no, but…” He isn’t quite sure how to voice that he feels like he can talk to Charlie forever, regardless of where they are. 

“At any rate, you have his number now, so you can move right along to freakin’ out over when you should call ‘im.”

Dan rolls his eyes, suddenly very eager to buy Woody some dinner so at least he’ll stop teasing him. 

Charlie must have called himself after adding his info to Dan’s phone, because Dan already has a text from him. 

It’s two emojis - a coffee cup, and the “soon” arrow - followed by a question mark. 

viii. 

_ (One year later) _

“I’m just saying,” Charlie says as they walk up the stairs to Dan’s flat. “Twelve was completely unwatchable so I have no interest in giving Thirteen a chance.”

“Harsh, man.” 

They’d met some friends for dinner and pints at the pub but have called it a night early since Charlie has to get up with the sun for work the next morning. 

“The original Ocean’s 11 is one film. No one told them they needed to make a trilogy out of it,” he goes on. “Also. It’s time you knew. I don’t think George Clooney is all that special.”

“...Brad Pitt, though,” Dan points out as they round the corner of the second-floor landing. 

“I will give you that. He was great in Eleven. Doesn’t make up for Don Cheadle’s awful fake accent, though. They couldn’t find a British actor to play that part?”

Dan unlocks his door and they step inside. “Idris Elba wasn’t a thing yet, else I’m sure he’d have been cast as the ruffian Black British explosives guy.”

“Probably,” Charlie agrees, going through the usual ritual of hanging his coat on a hook next to Dan’s and leaving his shoes on the mat. 

They take turns changing into pajamas and using the loo. When Charlie returns to the bedroom there’s a small gift-wrapped package in the middle of the bed. 

“What’s this?” He thinks for a minute. “Valentine’s Day isn’t til next week.” 

“It’s… just open it. Small box first.” Dan fidgets with a loose thread on the duvet.

Charlie moves so he’s sitting at the edge of the bed, Dan beside him. He separates the small box from the larger, taking the top off the box to reveal…

“A key?” It’s an ordinary silver key, attached to an Oceansize keychain that Dan must have pilfered from his shelf of random memorabilia. 

“My spare. Or at least it was,” Dan rattles off. “I know we haven’t talked about it, and I realize now that I have absolutely no idea when your current lease ends or how you and Kyle–”

“Dan.” Charlie gently places a hand on his shoulder and looks him in the eye. “I’m here most of the time anyway, aren’t I? And Kyle will have no trouble filling the room, I’m sure. So if you’re asking me to move in with you… of course I will.”

Dan exhales, visibly relieved. “Wicked,” he assesses with a smile. Then he cups Charlie’s jaw with one hand and leans in for a quick kiss. 

The touch of Dan’s soft lips to his own makes Charlie shiver, as if he hasn’t experienced the same sensation hundreds of times. 

“What’s in the bigger box, though?” Charlie asks then, suddenly suspicious. 

“Well, uh…” Dan’s still a bit red and flustered, but now he’s smirking mischievously. 

Charlie looks down at the keychain in his hand; it’s then that he notices the two small keys hanging on the same ring as the key to the flat. “ _ Oh _ .”

Dan’s broken out into a grin now. Charlie feels something rising in his chest that’s a cross between excitement and panic. 

Charlie pops open the box, which – obviously – contains a pair of handcuffs. “Oh my sweet Jesus.”

“Is it too much?” Dan asks quietly. “It’s been a year since…” 

“Since you had to save me from my own idiotic curiosity?” Charlie supplies with a chuckle. 

“I would save you from much worse, if I had to. And I was just thinking… maybe we’re ready to be curious idiots together.”

“I reckon we might be, yes,” Charlie agrees, then raises an eyebrow and lowers his voice. “Can I... go first?”

**Author's Note:**

> My triangle band fics are typically available for AO3 users only, so this will probably join that classification soon. In the meantime, thanks for reading.


End file.
